Since You Asked: One resolution worth keeping -- Count your blessings

I'm sure I should be resolving something that would make me a better person, and my life more exemplary.

But geeze: I have been getting by this way for 86 years; why change now?

Or could I change if I wanted to?

The only New Year's resolution I ever kept was to stop smoking (and I've been coasting on that one ever since). I haven't been successful at all at giving up cheese and chocolate and the fattening things I know I should quit.

So the years roll on, and so do the pounds.

If I were serious about changing, I guess I could work on my temper. I have always considered myself pretty sweet-natured, but Rowland might disagree. My new husband and I have our tempestuous moments. He, in fact, never seems to get riled, but I can explode at the drop of a hat.

Can it be that he is more annoying than my last husband? Or have I just become more set in my ways, more sure of how things should be?

A huge bone of contention has been politics: he is a committed capitalist and Republican, while I am a Democrat, capital D. He constantly comments on my "lefty" opinions, my "liberal" ways.

I don't consider myself a lefty, just someone who wants to take care of people in need. I am not one who believes everyone should — or could — pull himself up by his bootstraps.

Rowland, on the other hand, believes that everyone is responsible for himself, and can, if he is willing to sacrifice or pay attention, make his way in this world.

Bah, humbug, say I. Sometimes, no matter how willing we are, the cards are stacked against us.

So he and I debate our positions. A lot. And of course there is no simple answer, so the debate is ongoing.

When he won't concede that I am right, I go ballistic.

Stupid me.

I resolve right now not to scream at him any more.

Besides — I know perfectly well he is a reasonable guy, because he voted for Obama. Yahoo! We agreed on something!

Another point of contention has been our differing attitudes about money. Possessions. He wants to have one of everything, I want to give everything away. Our house, and our bank accounts, are like a revolving door. In and out, in and out.

I am wary each time he goes to the store. He goes to buy something he "needs," but comes home with stuff I'd never need, nor want. We debate all the time. I throw up my hands.

No use in my asking him to resolve to be more frugal. He is who he is and has been cultivating that persona for 87 years.

I am who I am, and no New Year's resolutions are going to change me.

Luckily, both of us are able to laugh at our differences; my outbursts rarely last. Rowland says I make our arguments seem more contentious than they really are, and I know he is right. We have differences, but who doesn't?

So here we are, on the brink of another year, with one resolution in common:

That the two of us will continue to live together in relative harmony, and remember at all times — despite my bad temper — to count all the blessings we have.